[Editor: This poem by Marie E. J. Pitt was published in The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses (1911).]
The Talisman.
A star above the stormy wrack
Of all to-day’s distresses;
A glint of gold that threads the black
Of thorny wildernesses!
We build our castles of desire
O’er fens of black disaster:
And bind our souls in bonds of hire
Unto an alien master.
But o’er the dark horizon line
That bounds our skies o’ dreaming,
Still, still we see the lodestar shine
Where Faith’s far hills are gleaming.
To-morrow Hope will build again
O’er shards of ancient sorrow,
To-day we tread the vales of pain,
We’ll climb the hills — to-morrow.
Source:
Marie E. J. Pitt, The Horses of the Hills and Other Verses, Melbourne: Specialty Press, 1911, page 69
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